


The Prisoner's Prisoner

by nonky



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pellington (Blindspot)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: He was responsible for his agents, and Pellington couldn't let one prisoner bend the small but pivotal world of the New York field office into a place without right and wrong.





	

The only thing to be thankful for was Weller had brought Jane in during the night, witnessed by a handful of agents.

Director Pellington had seen people lose a spouse and children with less grief than Kurt Weller had in arresting Jane Doe. The man was standing outside holding, shell-shocked and gripping the street clothes she had been forced to trade for a pair of plain blue scrubs that prevented self harm. 

He was almost expecting to see his agent twist the clothes into a noose to hang himself. Jane was safely in a cell, shaken but rational. She'd collected herself and was remaining silent. She smelled like someone had tried to burn her to death, and she'd been in a fight. He wasn't sure who with, because Kurt Weller could no more raise a hand to her than he could wish her into being Taylor Shaw.

Jane's arrival at the office had been at the length of Weller's arm, cuffed and led with brittle motions to containment. The tear tracks on her face were startling, but she had been caught. It was obvious she would be upset. Weller looked like every step was across a floor of actual fire and brimstone. He had gone nearly mute, but somehow enough of a bond lingered to make him glue his eyes to Jane Doe.

His hands had stroked her wrists when he'd handed her off to a fellow agent to be shown to a cell. For a moment, Pellington had been sure Weller wasn't going to give her up. The tenderness was more of the same of the slightly too close interactions the two had shown at work. It was like seeing the man yearn to embrace Jane while she gutted him, his eyes falling closed like he was memorizing even that contact. 

No one knew what charges to lay against her, and Weller hadn't been able to explain beyond repetition. "She was never Taylor."

Weller could show appropriate detatchment. He was a man of fair but stern expectations, and Pellington knew Mayfair's only real concern with Weller was his anger when justice lagged. The diligence of his work on Jane's case was flawless, even as it was clear Weller would be happy to see the amnesiac woman every day for the rest of his career.

And now Kurt Weller, acting Assistant Director of the FBI's struggling New York branch, was rooted to the spot outside Jane Doe's cell. He was mute, too many desperate thoughts emanating in the shudder of his body when he tried to move away. Pellington could believe he was capable of standing there until an actual collapse, like a beaten dog who knew only pain and an inveterate loyalty.

It would be touching if Jane Doe was his wife, or there was a chance of her innocence. Pellington could see the tragedy in it, and he had every sympathy for Weller's pain. The man looked like he was dying. 

Someone had to be the pragmatist. Kurt Weller was in charge, and needed to be seen as formidable. He would live through this day, and many days to come. His current paralysis was hiding his tactical skills and investigative experience. His career would matter to him again, and Pellington wanted to preserve it for that moment. 

There were hundreds of agents waiting for Kurt Weller to jar his spine upright, grit his teeth and take the long walk into his office to fill Mayfair's shoes. He would need help and mentoring. He needed to be able to show his agents he could do his work despite the upheaval of his personal conflict. 

Trying to run the office with Jane Doe locked up in the heart of the building would be like displaying Weller's broken heart on the floor in the middle of SIOC. The sooner he could be convinced to transfer her elsewhere, the faster he could recover what was left of himself. 

Pellington didn't need to have the argument to know Kurt Weller's hands could not open and give her to anyone else. Making it an order would only start a panic in the lingering hope this was a misunderstanding that might be untangled. If it occurred to him the choice might come from higher up, the man might free Jane and disappear with her to sort things out without backup or the illusion of sanity. Mayfair was under suspicion of murder and had slipped her monitoring, and now her protege was a flight risk, too.

It had to be a clean break, without evidence to search for her. Resources needed to go to those deserving, like finding Mayfair and perhaps salvaging her career. Pellington would give the order himself, but he needed to have influence to guide Weller in his new role. There were ways to make it happen quietly, in darkness and a concession to duty. Sometimes leadership was underhanded and went against every rule of law.

The right thing to do in a crisis was sometimes the least unjust course, and justice would scar after it bled. Weller would find himself and live to face his own honour.

The closeness of Weller's team would pull him back. One of them would summon the nerve and gently lead Weller away to eat and rest. They would coax him from his tiny prison of the two floor tiles where he'd stood when he last saw Jane Doe. His exhaustion would catch up, his team would be allowed to take over his vigil, and Jane Doe would not exist when he woke up. 

Pellington leaned over the laptop showing the split screen of Weller trapped outside her cell, and Jane trapped inside. Jane had sank to the mattress with her hands fallen limp to her sides, expressionless. 

He made himself think of what would happen to her next, the kind of place she would go, and the odds of her ever leaving. He made himself feel the decision - the harm and benefit - and looked at both of its human faces before he sealed his action. 

It was his call to make to protect his agents.


End file.
